


run away with me (anytime you want)

by coruscatingcatastrophe



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bonding over music, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Hot Topic, Keith (Voltron) is Pretty, Lance experiences social awkwardness for the first time ever, M/M, Pining Lance (Voltron), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and also Very Amused, and present-day me lol, basically thirteen-year-old me had a field day with this one, even though this is just a gigantic emo reference, gratuitous and shameless references to emo bands, i cannot stress enough how little angst there is in this fic, yes i am once again back with the crack, zero angst whatsoever can be found here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coruscatingcatastrophe/pseuds/coruscatingcatastrophe
Summary: “Find everything okay?” Cute Hot Topic boy asks with another one of those smiles, and all Lance can do is nod mutely, feeling like his tongue has tied itself into approximately two billion knots. Cute Hot Topic boy glances down as he rings up Lance’s purchase and says, “Sleeping with Sirens, huh?”What.Lance quickly follows his gaze, and realizes that that is, indeed, what the shirt he’d grabbed displays across the front.My mamá is going to ask so many questions,Lance thinks. “Oh, yeah,” he says, accompanied by a high, nervous laugh.What the quiznack,he internally screams. “You’d think that would really hurt, right?” he adds, before he canthink about the words coming out of his mouth.The boy blinks at him, eyebrows scrunching cutely. “What?” he asks.Kill me now.“Oh, you know . . . sleeping with sirens. I can’t imagine that would end well for anyone.”Actually, scratch that.Incinerateme now.-Or,Keith is the cute boy who works at Hot Topic, and Lance keeps buying merchandise just to talk to him. Also, he may or may not slowly convert to emo-ism. He regrets nothing.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 261





	run away with me (anytime you want)

**Author's Note:**

> last night i was reading another klance fic that referenced hot topic and mcr, and i came to the tragic realization that i had not listened to their beautiful music since approximately 567 bce. this was unacceptable, so i corrected it by listening to danger days and crying at all the music videos—and then this emo disaster was born. it's entirely self-indulgent, and i definitely used it as an excuse to reference nearly every single one of the bands i've ever loved. please enjoy. 
> 
> fic title comes, naturally, from "summertime" by my chemical romance

Lance McClain enters the mall with a single objective at the front of his mind: buying a new pair of white jeans to replace the pair that tragically met their fate when his niece spilled chocolate milk all over them the previous weekend. Of course, it was completely accidental, but Lance was understandably distraught, because those jeans made his legs look longer than Jack Skellington’s and complimented his skin tone  _ fantastically.  _ In retrospect, he should never have thought that wearing white while babysitting his brother’s children would end in anything  _ but  _ disaster, but—well. You live and learn, he supposes. 

All disasters and unfortunate tragedies aside, Lance has to replace those jeans,  _ pronto.  _ He tried every possible stain-removing technique out there—even the DIY ones recommended by soccer mom blogs—but  _ nothing  _ is strong enough to stand against the power of chocolate milk, it seems. So in the end, Lance had no choice but to concede defeat, which is how he’s found himself in the mall on a beautiful Saturday morning, when he  _ should  _ be at home, sleeping the day away. 

Humming along with the generic pop music that plays over the mall’s speakers, Lance makes his way to the escalator, which will take him up to where all of the good, reliable stores are. He thinks he’ll head into Hollister first, and if his most beloved store fails him, he’ll head over to American Eagle. Or,  _ oh, yeah,  _ he thinks, as he steps off the escalator and the store pops out at him,  _ maybe PacSun.  _ Most of the time, he forgets PacSun even exists, but he figures they have as good a chance as any at having an acceptable pair of stylishly-distressed white jeans. 

Off Lance goes, making his way down towards Hollister. As he passes by the other stores, one particularly dark store front jumps out in his peripheral. Not because of the loud, heavy-guitar music that blasts out of the open doors to duel with the general mall area’s music, but because of the figure moving in the store window. 

It’s a boy—an employee, no doubt—who looks to be about Lance’s age of seventeen-ish, dressing the mannequins in T-shirts displaying what Lance assumes are popular emo bands or quirky pop-culture references or whatever Hot Topic is selling these days. All Lance really knows about Hot Topic are his older sisters’ shudders of horror and the jokes made about it being “the emos’” only happy place or whatever. When Lance thinks of Hot Topic, he thinks of customers with colorful hair and multiple piercings, maybe a few tattoos and definitely, always eyeliner. None of which Lance objects to—he’s a firm believer that people should look and dress however they want to—but none of it is really  _ Lance.  _ Well, except maybe the eyeliner. 

Point being, Lance has never had a single reason to go into a Hot Topic before. But in this moment he stops in his tracks, as the boy in the window turns his head just enough for Lance to see a side-profile of the most  _ ethereal  _ person he has ever seen in his life. Pale skin stands out stark against the moody, dark background behind him and the even darker tendrils of his hair, uncurling from his ponytail to curve elegantly along his sharp jawline. His lips move along with whatever lyrics are playing from the speakers—Lance presumes—and to his delight, he finds that the boy makes dramatic facial expressions—to go along with the mood of the song, he once again presumes. Is that a little bit of  _ head-banging  _ he detects? It’s at once so befitting of the Hot Topic aesthetic and so  _ nerdy  _ that Lance wants to laugh, but at the same time it’s so endearing that he feels as if he’s witnessing something private and beautiful. 

All of this, Lance realizes within the span of a few moments—long enough to realize he’s staring, but not long enough for the boy to look up and catch him doing it. So quickly, he ducks his head and continues on his quest to find the perfect pair of replacement jeans, and ignores the way he feels his cheeks flaming all the way into the safety of Hollister and its hipster music. 

Once again, Hollister comes through for him; it’s approximately ten minutes later that the cashier is ringing him up, placing his jeans into a bag with his receipt and bidding him a good day. Lance echoes the sentiment as he emerges from the store, feeling extremely successful and ready to go back home, change back into pajamas, and collapse onto the couch to marathon Disney movies with his mother. 

But then, as he’s walking past Hot Topic again, he glances toward the display window—out of  _ sheer curiosity— _ and realizes that the cute employee is no longer there. Lance laments this, feeling far more disappointed that he probably should, before the thought occurs to him:  _ you could just go in and say hello, you know.  _

Normally, Lance would follow that instinct right away, easy-peasy. Lance is by nature an extrovert—he loves people, and talking to people, and being with people, and  _ meeting  _ new people—and he’s definitely met people in weirder ways than walking into a store and starting up a conversation. The problem here is, Lance would have to admit to  _ spying  _ on this person who, for all he knows, could get super creeped out and call security to kick him out. Understandably—there are  _ so  _ many creeps in the world these days, and he wouldn’t blame the cute Hot Topic guy for thinking he’s a creep. 

But Lance thinks he’d literally  _ never  _ forgive himself if he doesn’t go in there and at least  _ ask  _ for the guy’s number. The worst that can happen is he says no, and Lance moves on with his life, right? 

So, steeling himself with a breath, Lance nods. And then he heads inside. 

Immediately, his eardrums are assaulted with the sound of heavy drums, guitar, and bass—accompanied by unintelligible screaming that he couldn’t decipher if his life depended on it. To his instant relief, he sees cute window display boy at the register now, appearing to reorganize jars of miscellaneous items on the counter. He looks up when he realizes someone’s entered the store, smiles the smile of an emo angel, and says, “Hi, can I help you with anything?” 

Lance, immediately dumbstruck, fumbles for a reply. “I—uh, no thanks,” he squeaks, and then rushes off to hide amongst the rows of merchandise. It’s really dark back here, and gives him the perfect place to internally freak out.  _ What the  _ hell _ just happened? _ he wonders to himself. He’s  _ never  _ been struck speechless before—even by really cute strangers. Normally, it’s all Lance can do  _ not  _ to word-vomit all over his crushes. So  _ why  _ have his words decided to fail him now? Why didn’t he say hi back? Why didn’t he go up to the boy and say:  _ “Yes, actually, I’m looking for your number and was wondering if you could help me find it?”  _ So many  _ missed  _ opportunities, he laments, and wonders if he stays back here long enough, if he could eventually melt into a dark puddle of gloom and disappear. 

It takes him awhile to realize that if he doesn’t reemerge soon, the cute Hot Topic employee might think something is wrong and come looking for him, and  _ that’s  _ the only thing he can think of that would be worse than word-vomiting all over him. But he can’t just  _ leave  _ without buying something—that would make him look weird, since he’s been in here so long—so after a moment of frantic searching, Lance’s eyes land on the T-shirt section. He grabs the first shirt in his size that he can find and makes his way back to the front, now more than ever ready to get out of here so he can reevaluate all his life’s choices up to this point. Also, the music is starting to give him a little bit of a headache. 

“Find everything okay?” Cute Hot Topic boy asks with another one of those smiles, and all Lance can do is nod mutely, feeling like his tongue has tied itself into approximately two billion knots. Cute Hot Topic boy glances down as he rings up Lance’s purchase and says, “Sleeping with Sirens, huh?” 

_ What.  _ Lance quickly follows his gaze, and realizes that that is, indeed, what the shirt he’d grabbed displays across the front.  _ My mamá is going to ask so many questions,  _ Lance thinks. “Oh, yeah,” he says, accompanied by a high, nervous laugh.  _ What the quiznack,  _ he internally screams. “You’d think that would really hurt, right?” he adds, before he can  _ think about the words coming out of his mouth.  _

The boy blinks at him, eyebrows scrunching cutely. “What?” he asks. 

_ Kill me now.  _ “Oh, you know . . . sleeping with sirens. I can’t imagine that would end well for anyone.”  _ Actually, scratch that.  _ Incinerate  _ me now.  _ Lance is  _ horrified  _ by his current communication skills—or blatant  _ lack thereof. What is happening.  _

“Oh.” Cute Hot Topic boy lets out a musical laugh. Even with the loop of screaming going on in the background, Lance can still somehow hear it perfectly. It does things to his heart. “Yeah, I guess not,” he agrees. “So anyway, what’s your favorite album by them?” he continues, sounding  _ genuinely interested  _ in Lance’s answer. This is the exact moment when Lance realizes he’s  _ screwed.  _

“Oh, uh . . . gee, I dunno. I mean—they’re just all so. Great,” he fumbles dumbly. The screaming in his head has turned into full-on police sirens.  _ We have you surrounded. Stop acting like a dumbass and no one gets hurt.  _

“That’s true,” Cute Hot Topic boy nods, his smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he bags the shirt up and hands over Lance’s change. “My personal favorite’s  _ Madness,  _ or maybe  _ How It Feels To Be Lost,  _ I think, but I love them all. Of course, there are those asshole fans just like anywhere else, who think that all the band’s newer stuff is shit compared to their earlier music. But like, what did you want them to do, make the same album seven times?” He rolls his eyes, but his smile is still good-natured as he keeps his eyes trained on Lance. In this lighting, it’s hard to tell what exact color his eyes are. Gray, maybe? They look kind of—purple, but that must be the lighting. Or maybe he wears colored contacts. Regardless, Lance feels trapped beneath his gaze. He can feel sweat beading up on his skin, like he’s an ant and Cute Hot Topic boy’s eyes are a magnifying glass training the sun’s harmful UV rays directly onto him. He might explode into pathetic dust particles at any moment. 

“Right, yeah,” Lance forces himself to choke out anyway, and is relieved when he still sounds semi-normal. A little bit like a frog with laryngitis, but he’ll let it pass this once. “I mean, artists should totally be allowed to evolve and do what they want without being hated on by people who call themselves fans. As long as they’re staying true to themselves, that’s always what I think is most important, you know?” Lance may not know much about this band personally, but he definitely knows what jerks Cute Hot Topic boy is talking about. 

“Yeah,” Cute Hot Topic boy says, and flashes yet a  _ third  _ smile, and Lance thinks his heart won’t be able to take much more of this. “Is that everything?” the boy asks, and once again, Lance finds himself mute. He nods, takes his bag and the change that Cute Hot Topic boy’s been holding this whole time, and mutters out a quiet, “See you,” as he high-tails it for the door. He accidentally fumbles his change as he’s trying to shove it into his wallet as he exits, which results in him swearing loudly and having to crouch down to recollect it. Face flaming, he determinedly does  _ not  _ look behind him to see if the cute Hot Topic employee witnessed that disaster, and has no idea how he’s ever going to recover from this much social embarrassment. 

  
  


_____

  
  


Lance trudges defeatedly into his home, his two bags of consumer goods clutched in hand and his failure clutched in his heart. The sound of the  _ Frozen  _ soundtrack immediately greets his ears, but he’s not in the mood to listen to cheery snowmen sing about how much they love summer right now. 

_ “Mijo?”  _ his mamá says, worry audible in her voice as she takes in Lance’s slump. “Is something wrong?” 

“No, everything’s fine, Mamá,” Lance says, but even he can hear the glum wilt in his voice. “I just completely ruined my first meeting with who  _ would have been _ my future husband. Now I’m probably gonna end up single and lonely with twelve cats and only reruns of  _ Friends  _ to keep me company in my old age. I’m going to go cry about it now.” 

“Oh . . . alright,” his mother says, now sounding confused, but still with a touch of concern, like she’s questioning if her youngest son needs to be put in a mental hospital. “We’re having lasagna for dinner tonight. With garlic knots,” she informs him. 

“That sounds great,” Lance says as he heads up the stairs, but even the thought of garlic knots doesn’t make him feel better. That’s how he knows it’s  _ really _ bad. 

He collapses onto his bed and sighs heavily at the ceiling for a moment before he realizes the reason why everything feels  _ super horrible  _ instead of just regular  _ not-fantastic _ is because he’s still wearing street clothes instead of pajamas. So he changes, and then he collapses back into his blanket nest and plays on his phone for a while. He answers a couple texts from Hunk and Rachel, feeds his cats on  _ Neko Atsume,  _ and it’s only when he’s closing out the game’s tab that his gaze catches on the bags at the foot of his bed. More specifically, the Hot Topic bag. And he remembers Cute Hot Topic boy all over again, and the horrible “sleeping with sirens” joke, and he mentally dies again but then he remembers:  _ “my personal favorite’s  _ Madness _ , or maybe  _ How It Feels To Be Lost, _ I think.”  _

His curiosity gets the better of him, in the end. He opens his music app, immediately types the band’s name into the search bar, and clicks on the first album Cute Hot Topic boy had suggested— _ Madness.  _

To his complete and total despair, he finds that with every song, he falls a little bit more in love with the boy who’d unknowingly recommended the album to him.  _ Yeah,  _ he mentally sobs as the lead singer alternatively screams like a demon and sings like an angel directly into his eardrums—the perfect balance, honestly— _ I’m so doomed. _

  
  


_____

  
  


On the dawn of a new day, Lance resolves himself and makes up a plan. He is going to  _ woo the emo socks off  _ of Cute Hot Topic boy. And he’s going to use the world of emo music to do it. 

He can picture their future perfectly. At their wedding, they’ll both don themselves in band merch head-to-toe—T-shirts, bracelets, necklaces, hats, socks, you name it—and they’ll play emo music at their reception (with some Taylor Swift and Ariana Grande mixed in for variety, of course), and none of Lance’s family will get it but that’s okay because they’ll  _ love  _ Cute Hot Topic boy. And after they get married they’ll adopt a couple of kids and they’ll play the music in the car to annoy them as they grow up.  _ ”Ugh,  _ dads,  _ your music was  _ so lame.  _ Real instruments and vocals are  _ so  _ last century.”  _

Look, maybe it sounds way too far ahead of himself and . . . definitely a little bit crazy, but.  _ Listen.  _ He and Cute Hot Topic boy are  _ meant to be, okay?  _ He can  _ feel  _ it. 

So a week after his first trip into Hot Topic—long enough after to not be _obvious,_ but not long enough for Cute Hot Topic boy to forget about him—Lance braves the store again. It’s the same day and time as the last time, and he prays that Hot Topic has a consistent management schedule so that the cute employee will actually be in the store. And he _is,_ Lance sees as he walks inside, his chest immediately pitter-patting in relief and delight. Both emotions are immediately overcome by nervousness as the boy looks up from checking out a customer, a smile brighter than anything in this store lighting up his face as he greets him. “Hey! Can I help you with anything?” 

Lance is almost  _ positive  _ that he hears extra enthusiasm in his voice at seeing him again. But then again, he could be imagining it. He probably is, actually—and oh no, here comes the rush of anxiety-induced speechlessness. He shakes his head and once again ducks down the row of T-shirts before the cute boy can say anything else to him. 

_ Shit.  _ This was a  _ terrible  _ idea, he realizes at once, coming to the horrific realization that he’s in  _ exactly  _ the same position he was last week. He doesn’t recognize  _ any  _ of these band names.  _ Black Veil Brides? Pierce the Veil?  _ Why are there so many veils involved in emo music? Do emo people have to attend a lot of weddings and feel angry about it, thus all the screaming? And how the heck do you even  _ pronounce “PVRIS”?  _

But then, Lance’s eyes catch on a band he actually  _ does  _ know.  _ Fall Out Boy.  _ Who doesn’t know  _ Fall Out Boy?  _ Sure, he can only name, like . . . two songs by them, but it’s better than nothing. Immensely relieved, Lance snatches the shirt and makes his way back to the register to stare at Cute Hot Topic boy’s beautiful face as he rings him up (and hopefully starts up another conversation).

“Fall Out Boy. A classic,” Cute Hot Topic boy says, with what Lance thinks is approval. “You know, my brother got me into them . . .  _ years  _ ago. He was one of the original emos—like, he was around when My Chemical Romance was still together. Even went to one of their concerts. I guess you could say my taste in music was heavily influenced by him.” 

“Oh, wow,” Lance says, even though he has very little idea what half of what Cute Hot Topic boy was saying meant.  _ My Chemical Romance . . . did they sing that song about the parade of death? The dark parade?  _ He’ll have to google it later. “Your brother sounds awesome,” he guesses. 

“Yeah, he is.” A flash of a smile.  _ Yes.  _ “Do you have any siblings?” Cute Hot Topic boy asks. 

“Oh, yeah. I have four,” Lance grins, and laughs at the other boy’s stunned blink. 

“Four. Wow. That’s . . . kind of a lot,” he says slowly, “Sometimes I barely feel like I can put up with one.” 

Laugh laughs. “Yeah, right? But at least they’re all older—they’re all actually out of the house by now. My oldest brother even has a couple kids of his own now.” 

Cute Hot Topic boy hums, smile brightening just a little as he finally rings up Lance’s shirt and places it into a bag. “That’s really nice,” he says, “I hope you’re teaching them how to appreciate good music early on,” he adds jokingly. 

“Obviously,” Lance replies, with a joking lilt to his own voice. “I mean,  _ someone’s  _ gotta do it.” 

“Your task is very noble,” Cute Hot Topic boy gravely says, though his attempt at seriousness is betrayed by that smile, still shining in full force. He hands Lance’s change over, and this time, he  _ doesn’t  _ fumble it. He considers it a win. “Is that everything?” he asks. 

“Yeah. Uh, see you around . . .” Lance trails off, realizing for the first time that he doesn’t know Cute Hot Topic boy’s real name. 

“Keith,” Cute Hot Topic boy—or,  _ Keith,  _ tells him. “See you . . .?” he prompts. 

“Uh—the name’s Lance,” Lance says, suddenly feeling flustered all over again, and internally kicks himself for his complete  _ dorkiness.  _ Now Keith is going to think he’s a dork. Someone as attractive as Keith would  _ never  _ date a dork. 

Still, Keith’s smile never wavers, and he says, “Well, see you around, Lance.” 

The way he says Lance’s name turns his heart into a puddle of gloppy, sappy, emo  _ goo  _ in his chest. 

  
  


_____

  
  


Over the coming weeks, Lance catalogues many things. 

_ One:  _ Keith has seven ear-piercings—three in one ear, four in the other. 

_ Two:  _ he looks as beautiful with his hair up in a ponytail as he does with it down. Even if it . . .  _ is  _ kind of a mullet. Oh well, Brad Mondo says mullets are coming back into style, so it’s perfectly acceptable. Anyway, Keith’s beautiful enough anyway that bad hair would do literally nothing to take away from it. 

_ Three:  _ Keith always has something to say about music. And they’re  _ all  _ good things. Keith is open to all types of music, from pop-rock to indie to classical. Once, Lance walked in and Keith was wearing a  _ Harry Styles  _ T-shirt. It was all he could do not to propose to him on the spot. 

_ Four:  _ Keith gets really emotional about My Chemical Romance. Like . . . really emotional. 

Lance could go on, but you get the idea. He falls even more madly in love with Keith every single time he goes into Hot Topic. And then he leaves, with merchandise from bands he’s never heard of but that Keith adores, and Lance memorizes everything he says and then goes home and listens to every recommendation. These things, he catalogues as well. 

Lance learns that, as he expected, he prefers the softer, more  _ pop _ side of the pop-rock genre to the more hardcore stuff. He leans more towards the  _ All Time Low  _ end, and not really at all towards the  _ Bring Me The Horizon  _ end. When it comes to  _ My Chemical Romance, Danger Days  _ is by far his favorite album—but they  _ all  _ make him cry. He loves  _ Paramore, PVRIS  _ (pronounced “Paris,” it turns out), and  _ Against The Current, _ and thinks the world would be a better place if there were more pop-punk bands led by female lead-singers. 

And don’t get Lance started on  _ Palaye Royale.  _ Sometimes, he wonders who he even  _ was  _ before Hot Topic—and subsequently, so much great music—came into his life. 

But most of all, he wonders how he could have ever known true happiness before he saw Keith smile. 

And then he wonders how it is that he still gets so  _ tongue-tied  _ around him, words tripping up and fumbling and twisting so even he doesn’t understand what he’s trying to say, half the time. He wonders why it is that if Keith were  _ anyone  _ else, he’d have no problem with asking him out on the spot. But because he’s Keith, Lance is learning that it’s physically  _ impossible  _ to make a move.  _ Literally.  _ Any time he tries to open his mouth to ask for Keith’s number, he finds himself frozen. 

It’s infuriating, and frustrating, and what’s worst of all is, he  _ knows  _ he has to make a move soon. Guys as great as Keith don’t stay around forever if you don’t make a move when you have the chance. 

So why can’t Lance just take the shot? 

  
  


_____

  
  


“Hey, uh . . . buddy?” Hunk says tentatively when Lance reenters his bedroom, now with snacks. He looks over to locate his best friend, and is instantly  _ horrified  _ when he realizes that Hunk has pulled open his Secret Drawer of Emo. “What’s—all this?” 

Quiznack, he should have  _ known  _ it would be a terrible idea to leave Hunk alone in his room. His best friend is amazing and wonderful and  _ the  _ best human on Earth, but he’s also a shameless snoop. 

And now he’s  _ snooped  _ his way into the current most embarrassing part of Lance’s life. Ie: the drawer he’s filled with everything he’s bought from Hot Topic in recent months. Which is . . . an admittedly mortifying amount. It’s not just T-shirts, anymore; it’s bracelets and beanies and an  _ Andy Black bobble head— _ why do they even  _ make those?  _ Really, it’s all just a ridiculous sight, at this point. The worst part might be that Lance regrets  _ none of it.  _

“Uh . . .” Lance’s brain halts, and then weakly, he tries, “I’m—holding that for a friend?” 

Hunk gives him a deadpan look. “You’re a closet emo,” he declares. 

“I  _ am not!”  _ Lance screeches, then instantly feels guilty and ashamed of lying. By Hunk’s expression, he’s already seen through him anyway. “Okay, fine,” he laments, and collapses onto his bed. “I’m a closet emo,” he bemoans. “I don’t even know how this  _ happened.”  _

“Maybe you should start at the beginning,” Hunk suggests. His tone is kind and supportive, even as he looks down to squint at the merchandise in his hands. “I didn’t think you even knew who  _ Mayday Parade  _ was.” 

Lance blinks at him. “And you do?” 

“Of course. I had an emo phase in middle school,” Hunk says with a shrug. “Oh, man, I used to  _ love  _ this band,” he says as he unearths Lance’s very first emo acquisition. “I wonder why I stopped listening to them. Their music was awesome.” 

“Still is,” Lance corrects. Hunk turns to look at him, an eyebrow arched in intrigue, as if to say: _ go on . . .  _

That’s all it takes for the dam to break. Lance spends the next couple of hours gushing about all the music he’s discovered recently—and, naturally, Keith’s name comes up once . . . or three hundred times. Hunk listens attentively, because he’s the best; by the end of it all, he’s nodding, seeming to draw firm conclusions. 

“So, I need to listen to Sleeping with Siren’s new music,” he deduces, “and you need to ask Keith out.” 

“Basically,” Lance sighs. He stares sadly at the ceiling. All this, and there’s a physics test tomorrow that he and Hunk were  _ supposed  _ to be studying for. Why does everything in his life have to be so  _ difficult?  _

“It’s kinda romantic when you think about it, though,” Hunk says after a while. “Like, you started listening to a whole new genre of music, just to have something to talk about with him. Keith’s a pretty lucky guy, Lance.” 

Lance sighs again, but as he thinks about it, a small smile tugs its way onto his lips. “I guess,” he admits, “I just really hope Keith thinks that, too.” 

  
  


_____

  
  


_ Okay,  _ Lance thinks, giving himself a pep-talk as he stands outside Hot Topic. Keith is inside, checking out a customer, so it’s the perfect time to work himself up so that when the store is empty again, he can go in and ask him out. 

Yes, you read that right. Today is the day that Lance is  _ finally  _ getting his act together and asking Keith out on a date. 

He feels like he’s going to throw up. Is he supposed to feel like there’s a flock of geese throwing a pool party in his stomach? That’s what he feels like. He’s  _ never  _ been this nervous about asking someone out before. And he’s even, like,  _ eighty  _ percent sure Keith’s going to say yes. 

“Okay,” he says out loud now, taking a deep breath. The Hot Topic customer exits the store, and Lance waits a few beats longer to temper his nerves into steel before going inside. 

“Hi,” Keith says with a smile, and then teasingly recites, “is there anything I can help you with today?” 

“Actually,” Lance takes another deep breath, “Yeah. There is.” 

Keith straightens up out of his slight slouch against the counter, now; intrigue filling his deep, dark eyes—that Lance has yet to learn the exact color of. He intends to do so, very soon. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Lance nods, and makes his way over to the counter to stand directly in front of Keith. Those geese in his stomach have invited their friends, and their friends are even more chaotic and gigantic—cranes, maybe. Or ostriches. “I actually have a pretty important question that I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now.” 

“Yes,” Keith blurts, the moment Lance finishes speaking. “Yes, my answer is  _ yes.”  _

“Um.” Lance blinks, a little bit confounded. “You don’t even know what my question is, though?” 

The look Keith fixes him with could rival Hunk’s deadpan stare—only, his is mixed with unadulterated  _ exasperation.  _ “Lance,” Keith says, with no lack of amusement, “You’ve been coming in here every Saturday for two months to buy merchandise from bands you’ve never even  _ heard  _ of, just to talk to me. I don’t think it would be a huge gamble for me to wager that you’re asking me out right now.” 

“Oh . . .” For a moment, Lance is so taken aback that he forgets the bigger point, here.  _ “Wait. _ Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying this whole time, you  _ knew  _ I’ve been trying to ask you out?” 

“Well, yeah,” Keith says, biting his lip on a grin, “You’re kind of super obvious.” 

“Oh,” Lance repeats. “Oh— _hey,_ wait a minute. You’ve been letting me come in here and _buy overpriced merchandise_ for _months,_ when you could’ve just asked me out yourself?” he demands. 

To this, Keith shrugs. “Hey, business is business,” he teases, “and anyway—I knew you were getting around to it. In the meantime, I’ve liked having you in here on Saturdays to talk about music and whatever. You . . . kind of make the boring mornings bright, Lance.” 

“Oh,” Lance repeats, a third time. He feels as if his lungs are having some kind of mini-crisis now. Maybe the geese and their friends have migrated north. “Well, in that case . . .” he breathes, “do you want to go out with me after your shift? Make the bright morning a bright afternoon?” 

“I would  _ love  _ to.  _ Yes,”  _ Keith says, with emphasis that Lance can practically feel in his chest. He laughs, and Lance thinks about how there was a time where the looping playlist of Hot Topic’s loud music sounded a little unnatural in the background of Keith’s laughter. Now, it feels just like it makes sense. Everything about Keith is so interestingly at odds; he makes things that  _ shouldn’t  _ work together work perfectly together. 

“Oh, thank the emo gods,” Lance sighs in relief. He can feel his own grin stretching across his face, and thinks that there’s probably never be a single happier person in a Hot Topic than he is right now. “I was so worried that I’d committed myself to a completely new lifestyle for  _ nothing.”  _

Keith laughs again. “I can assure you it wasn’t,” he says, “even though I still would have liked you, even if you only listened to—I don’t know, generic top forties’ or something.” 

“Well, that would have been great to know, in retrospect,” Lance grumbles, but it’s good-natured, and he and Keith both know it. Keith smiles—brighter than Lance could  _ ever  _ hope to compete with—but before he can say anything, a customer enters the store. 

“Well, I should get back to work,” he says, turning his gaze back to Lance as the customer disappears into the store’s shadowy darkness. “But I’ll see you after?” 

“Yes,” Lance earnestly confirms. And then he remembers his question from the very first day he saw Keith; remembers all his days of tripping over himself, never quite able to get the words out through his nerves. Now, he seems even more ridiculous than he felt in the moment—which is truly a remarkable feat. But today is a day of bravery and taking chances . . . and he even already has the assurance of knowing what Keith’s answer will be. 

“Before I go, though . . . can I get your number?” 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: 
> 
> the "that must hurt" line in regards to sleeping with sirens is actually along the lines of the same thing that my best friend said to me when we first met. i was wearing a sws t-shirt, we were twelve and at the height of social awkwardness, and she thought it would be a great way to start a conversation. evidently it was, because we've been friends for five years. 
> 
> thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, feel free to leave kudos and comments, as they fill my life with the warm fuzzy feelings of joy <3


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